The Spacetime Pool (14 page)

Perhaps he
understood. He hadn’t insisted on accompanying her here. He had to know she was
avoiding him; what happy bride immediately sought out a library upon arriving
at her new home? Then again, most brides hadn’t just discovered such a
momentous trove of knowledge. Although Dominick seemed puzzled by her
excitement, he didn’t resist her pursuit of the knowledge.

Judged from the most
modern scrolls in this library, the year here corresponded to that in her
universe. However, just as in Gregor’s library, the science collection had no
recent books. The tomes were centuries old, the most recent dated 1557 a.d. A
layer of dust covered them. She found no history of science, no explanation of
how these people had once possessed such great knowledge and now had so little.

In fact, she found
few histories of any kind, though she searched for an hour. Several works
described the reign of Dominick’s family, but they didn’t go back to the
sixteenth century. Although it was harder to read the historical accounts, they
clearly focused on wars and politics, what the authors considered great deeds
of the Constantines. Yet she found many hints that his ancestors had also
distinguished themselves in scholarly pursuits, showing that same gift for
abstract thought she had seen in Dominick and Maximillian.

One section of the
library dealt with architecture, including books about the Palace of Arches.
Nothing explained the Fourier Hall, but a few studies mentioned a “key” to that
great room. She eventually found a description in a book on ancient military
codes, of all places. Settling into an armchair, she pored over the text,
puzzling out the words. The arches of that gorgeous hall formed a code. Their
Fourier transform was a key. But to
what?

Janelle sat back,
thinking. In two dimensions, the transform would probably be a peak with
rippled tails; in three dimensions, it might resemble the diffraction pattern
for a circular aperture. The locations of the central peak would specify a
time. For what? The text seemed to describe a portal, not the gate that had brought
her here but something for a much bigger event.

She went to a desk
and rummaged in its drawers until she found an inkbottle, quill, and parchment.
It took her a while to figure out how to use the quill, but finally she set to
work, trying to derive the Fourier transform of the arches. She couldn’t do it
exactly; that would require a computer. But the book gave drawings and
measurements for the hall, and she could model the arches as the sum of a few
squared sine waves.

As she ground away at
the equations, the lamp behind the desk burned low. The transform had the shape
she expected, with a large peak at the number 2057. Why 2057? She thought it
represented a time. Perhaps it meant 2057 years in the future or that many years
since something had happened. Or the year 2057.

A chill went through
her. In 2057, she would be seventy-one, about the age of the woman in the
prophecy. This
couldn’t
connect to her—for that implied she would still
be here in fifty years.

Dismayed, she went on
another search—and hit gold: a modern account of the Jade Pool. The “jade-hued
surface” had to be a Riemann screen. The author considered it an enigmatic
artifact of mythical proportions and presented equations for it as if they were
runes of a spell. Janelle could appreciate what Gregor had achieved, if he had
unraveled practical knowledge from such fanciful treatments.

The book also
discussed Riemann gates, which turned out to be a more complicated application
of the screen. She didn’t understand the technology, but she worked through the
equations. No matter how many times she tried to find a mistake in her work,
she derived the same result: the gate didn’t depend on two sheets—it involved
hundreds.
Dominick had managed to go back and forth to her universe because he used the
same gate, but it was closed now, and the entire cycle would have to complete
before it reopened. That would take centuries, maybe even millennia.

She stared at the
parchment with its blotted ink. Then she folded her arms on the desk and put
her head on her forearms.

Sometime later, a man
said, “Janelle?” A hand rested on her arm.

She lifted her head
to find Dominick watching her. He had pulled a stool up to the desk and was
sitting next to her.

“What happened?” he
asked.

She shook her head,
too disheartened to answer.

“Tell me,” he said
softly.

“I don’t think I can
go home.” The words burned inside her. “If you hadn’t opened the gate when you
did, you could never have found me. I would have been long dead before the
cycle returned to my universe.”

“You are telling me
the prophecy created itself? That if Gregor had never said anything, you wouldn’t
be here?”

She could only say, “Yes.”

He answered in a low
voice. “Then I am doubly sorry.”

“Something happens in
fifty years,” she said unevenly. “When I’m the age of the woman Gregor saw in
the pool. Another gate is going to open. A big one. During those few months,
your people may be able to do something incredible.”

He seemed bewildered.
“What something?”

“I don’t know.” She
hesitated. “Maybe your ancestors didn’t strand you forever. Maybe you can find
them.” She laid her palm against his chest. “Your family had the gifts to
understand once.”

A strange look came
into his eyes. “There is a saying.” He spoke in an unfamiliar language.

“What does it mean?”

“Roughly translated:
Constantines are the key to the future.”

She stared at him. “Who
else besides you and the monks has a library like this, with the ancient books?”

“Just Maximillian.”

“My God,” she
whispered. “It’s
you.
Your family.
You’re
the key. The Fourier
Hall is a clue, or a remnant, like the waveforms on the walls, but you’re the
guardians of the knowledge. It’s probably why your family ended up ruling
Othman.” She motioned at the library. “Everything you’ve lost is still here.
The ability to unlock it is
in
you, in your genes, your minds. If you
can find it.” She felt as if she were breaking. “But why me? How could you
reach across universes for someone to help you do this?”

He spoke in a subdued
voice. “Gregor said the pool showed many futures. My father wanted the one that
maximized his empire. I always assumed it depended on who ruled, Max or me, and
that you came into it because you brought power into our family, probably
through an alliance.” Quietly he said, “Maybe it is much larger than this
battle between brothers. Perhaps it is something only you can do.”

A tear slid down her
face. “At what price to me?”

“Ai, Janelle.” He put
his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him. “I don’t know how to take
you home. But if you let me, I will give you a home here worth having.”

She laid her head
against him and fought back her tears.

* * * *

Dominick’s suite was
far different than the chamber where Janelle had spent her first night in the
palace. It was five times the size. Low, black-lacquered tables stood around
the room, surrounded by big cushions instead of chairs. Rich tapestries in
gold, red, and green hung on the walls. The rugs he used for a bed filled one corner,
tumbled with velvet pillows. Braziers burned in other corners, and oil lamps
flickered in wall sconces, shedding a dim golden light. It all had a barbaric
elegance.

Janelle sat with
Dominick on his bed, leaning against the wall. They had come here from the
library, and now he held her. She fitted to his side, unable to talk, her
thoughts edged with pain.

After a while, she
said, “It is hard to believe you are brothers.”

He answered in a low
voice. “Do not see me with blinders. What Max does and believes—it is in me
also. I had a different life, and it taught me other ways. Had brutality molded
me instead, I would be just like him.”

“Will you go to war?”

“He is my brother,
despite everything.” He sounded tired. “But I will not desert my home and
people to go ‘across the sea,’ as he says I must. If that means we must fight,
so be it.”

She understood. Six
of his officers had died in the raid on the palace. He could rebuild the hall,
but nothing would bring back those men. At least Kadar, the guard who had helped
her in the tunnels, had survived. He had been injured, but he was recovering.

“Gregor told me about
your family,” Dominick said. “I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t talk
about it. So she said only, “My father was an ambassador. Do you have them
here?”

“Yes. It is a
position of honor, usually held by a nobleman.” He rubbed his hand along her
upper arm. “The people of Othman have a history of strife with the Andalusian
Empire. We descend from their colonies, but we gained our independence
centuries ago.”

Andalusia. Southern
Spain. “The empire doesn’t exist in my universe. But Spain is a nation. I lived
there for years.”

He didn’t seem
surprised. “It is no wonder the prophecy predicted you would affect our balance
of power. Your background suits you well to the throne.”

Dryly she said, “I
don’t think your brother was interested in my background.”

The corded muscles in
his arm tensed. “Max will never be satisfied until he takes you from me or
kills us both.” Grimly he added, “He will succeed with neither.”

“He says he and I are
married.”

Ire sparked in his
voice. “He cannot marry my wife.”

“His spy told him you
and I never wed.”

“I gave you the
jewels. And we consummated the marriage. So we are wed.”

“Uh, Dominick.” She
lifted her head. “We didn’t consummate it.”

“I stayed the night.
As far as anyone knows, we did.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you plan to say
otherwise.”

She smiled. “I won’t.”

He looked relieved. “Good.”

“I met your daughter.
She’s charming.”

His tone gentled. “Yes.
All my children are.”

“I’m sorry ... about
their mother.”

“Ah, well.” He
sounded muted. “It has been years.”

He fell silent after
that, and she regretted bringing up the memories. After a while, she said, “What
happened to your people five hundred years ago? Was there a war? A catastrophe?”

“I don’t think so.”
For one of the few times since she had met him, he sounded uncertain. “Some of
the people just left.”

“To where?”

Dominick pointed
upward. “There. Somewhere.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I have more
education than most because my mother insisted Max and I study history,
language, astronomy, and mathematics when we were boys, as much as anyone could
teach us. But it barely touches what is my library. Why did our ancestors
desert this world and never come back?” He shook his head. “We have lost that
knowledge. They took so much with them. Legend says they left us behind
deliberately. Some claim a political rift existed between those who went and
those who stayed. Others say we remained of our own free will, as guardians of
Earth, and that those who left cannot return because they became lost between
worlds, even universes.” Softly he said, “Perhaps it is both. But it’s been
half a millennium. Our memories are faded.”

It was heartbreaking
to think of the human race fractured that way. “Maybe they’ll return someday.”

“You will search for
answers?”